Those eyes...

Eyes are an enchanting thing. I remember the National Geographic that came out, the picture on the cover was that of some young Afghan girl with dazzling eyes...the picture captured the nation. On a lighter note, I remember being a younger man and looking deeply into the face of a beautiful young lady, "...Your eyes, they're like two brilliant glowing stars floating (pause), floating around in the empty space in your mind!" In 3 seconds, she went from nearly swooning, to utter confusion, to "I'm gonna hit you so hard your mothers gonna yell." I was only joking!


That girl over there is Eli. It's not likely she'll ever make the cover of a magazine, but she's got those eyes that make a father tremble. They're like a storm on the sea, like the moon glowing at night...mesmerizing, beautiful, enchanting. They could melt a stone - it's a good thing I'm harder than that! She's disarming. She's also brilliant and tough as nails. What do you expect from a dad who was a once upon a time soldier : )

Happy Birthday

The birthday girls is in the middle. We celebrated with an 8AM breakfast - including a sunday! Now they're on their way to Myrtle Beach, SC for 3 weeks with Gramma Joan and the Bop...tough life for a kid - NOT! Happy birthday G!

This is Arch street, and we're telling stories

My name is David (last name held for lack of memory). No Mr. Chris, you need to leave work at home and be on vacation. This is Philadelphia and you're here to see the sites. After a short lecture, we were back on track. Now it was David's mission to make my day. We're going to drive to the boy king, and while we're on our way, I'm gonna tell stories. We're going to have fun, and Mr. Chris, we'll be there in 15 minutes...you can time me. Now, we can't leave early...those are the rules...we leave at 4:00 PM on the nose. At 3:45 we rolled off bound for the Franklin Institute - he didn't want to be late I guess! But before we left, the girls got to ring the trolly bell (see the photo)!

Off we went, a right, then a left...The new center is a whole football field long (3 times for effect). All the men of that day were masons...I'm a mason too. Wawa means peace, there's little Rome...and the line that he kept bringing us back to... "Yeah, this is Arch street and we're telling stories." Well, there was not we, but he kept our attention wrapt, in fact I was hoping we'd be late just so we would remain entertained. For the record...16 minutes...I should have bet him a cheese steak!

A dancing, what I do...

Tonight was the dance recital. Not just 3 Button girls, but a fourth...the mommy. They were fabulous, and I had the best seat in the house. The sound guy. Not as taxing as on Sunday morning with a 32 chanel board...this was really a matter of timing and a single button to push. Sure, the dance teacher (who is wonderful in every way, by the way) and her stage people were a little demanding, "Louder, quiter, music now," but that's what show business is all about isn't it?! We had a great time, and so did the kids. They're cute, and funny, and I found one of the tap dancers very interesting - in fact, I think I'm going to ask her for a date...wish me luck! Besides all the fun work, there's the fellowship with the lighting guy. So anyways, when I'm not managing construction, or just trying to stay afloat, that's what I do.

Fast movers...

It was 21 years ago, but I still remember it like yesterday. Thank God it was only practice. We were peeking over a ridge line, watching the A-4s practice their strafing and bombing. They're fast, and loud, and the flew for most of the morning...it really was impressive. We moved that night...LRRPs only move at night. Another morning, another ridge, looking for anything that moved. We were hoping for a column of tanks, instead we found a Tactical Operations Command post (a TOC). We'd be heros for the mission, and we knew it. The protocol was clear. Once we radiod in the TOC, we'd have 1 hour to exit the area (the army has a more colorful phrase, but I'll spare you that!). "TOC in the open, Over...I repeat, grid coordinates 15347690." 8 digit grid, the A-4s would have no problem finding the TOC. We packed quickly, ready to move out. I was throwing my ruck over my head and onto my back - a slick move infantry soldiers learn quickly. I looked up, and there they were. 2 A-4s, fast movers. Low, and fast like lightning. Time stopped for a split second and I almost swear I could read the pilots name on the skin. A second later they were gone, the trees now waving in the jet wash as the ground rumbled. I was terrified, we all were...at least the new guys. In that moment I felt so vulnerable. We never saw them coming, never heard anything until they were past, and then the sound was deafening, reaching right into your chest. We turned and watched as they fired their missles. Small tactical nukes, we had been briefed. We were too close, still in the fallout radius and we all knew it. So much for the hour. Nobody said a word other than "move out," for a very long time. We all marched silenty, considering our mortality. We made a pact; that never again would we call in an airstrike until we were clear...the TOC wasn't going anywhere. And we were hero's for the day. The Colonel was in the tent - we smoked him. The 7th was without effective command for 8 hrs. Enough to secure the battle. We sure didn't feel that way though - like heros. This isn't an anti-military entry...just a memory - that's all.

A kid asked me the other day, "are you a veteran?" Yeah, I said. "What war?" I'm not a war veteran, I said. For the 11 years I was in, we were mostly at peace. God was gracious to me, I know I'd be a different man today, had I gone to combat. I'm proud of my red beret, of my airborne wings and my DI hat. I'm proud I had a chance to serve. And I'm proud of all the men who've served before, during and after me. Combat or not. There are some things worth dying for, and though I feel blessed to be alive, it was worth the risk...Freedom is worth the risk.

What I do...

2 years ago, I built a building...we'll, "we" built a building. Today was the day it was finally dedicated. Caird Hall. No one noticed that the anodized letters were really plastic. Instead, they all laughed at the jokes he told, watched the ribbon fall off the wall and smiled as Mr. Caird became teary eyed when the president talked about how proud his father would have been... It's universal isn't it? The Power of a father in our lives. I mean no discredit to mothers, by the way.

Anyways, I built the building. I guess in a sense, I'm one of those who know it best. And apparently he likes engineer/architect types. So I stepped into the breach of the tour...pushed to the front with Mr. Caird. "We've formed a real community here," I started. "It's beautiful and popular and quite durable with slate and oak and such." He was thrilled. Everybody was thrilled. And then we all went our seperate ways. The event was over as quickly as it started. So much preparation. So much energy and anxiety by so many people to secure a wonderful experience for an aging man who had just pledged $3.7M and put his name on the building while some of his classmates looked on with pride.

I built Caird Hall. I got to tell its story just a little bit today. Then I drank a Pepsi, picked up a dedication pamphlet for my scrapbook, and went home to love my daughters intentionally. Life is good isn't it?! Sometimes that's what I do.

Random thoughts

A few weeks ago, Kids Klub ended. I teach 5th and 6th grade boys with a military theme. They love it - I love it. Our end of year show was about King David and his mighty men...they stuck together (most of the time). They relied on God. They were real men...men's men.

Life kind of exploded after that night. Sometimes life does that. And sometimes I write too much here. In life, like in battle, explosions are rule - not the exception. I gather my strength by embracing the pressure, feeling it, and expressing it (sometimes in words on this page). Sometimes that's hard for my friends. My life has been blessed with other men. A ranger buddy, a wingman, and a prayer partner (see below for all). ...and a father. Segway. I work for a college managing construction. We went right from graduation (May 15th) to construction with a 2 day trip to NYC in the middle. Personal matters were further burdening my life. Somewhere in the fury of it all, I called my day, and never gave it another thought. Until last week. My secretary yelled in, "It's your father." My father? I wondered if someone died. "I know you're busy, but I just wanted to call and say I'm praying for you. How are things going?" The call was short, I was late for a meeting. But the impact was immense. He was there. My wingman and my prayer partner were there too. And so many others. Sometimes the battle is won by the force with the stronges will and the greatest encouragement. And sometimes it's won because of close air support. I guess I'm blessed...I have both.

New York City

Tuesday at 5PM we were supposed to be bound for the Big Apple. It was more like 6:30 when we actually left. Something wrong in JFK...there's always something wrong in JFK. We arrived unscathed, and quickly boarded the limo - yes, that's right - the limo! While riding into the city for a dinner I successfully lead a covert mutiny (changing the architects plans from "comfort food" dining to a top notch steak joint. Heroically, though feebly, I support my architect and all her efforts in setting up the dinner...but successfully infiltrated the the steak venue...mutiny successful! (I considered it further victory when the young lady sitting next to me said, "you should have tried harder to support Pam, but it was a good decision.")

...to be continued

The Friday Video

Tom is the father of a Rock Star. No, really, and I have an authorized bootleg CD...it's not piracy if the artists father gives it to you - right?! It's cool to have a celebrity on the team - or at least his father. Tom's an artist, and whenever I get really out of sorts I go and look at his white board; so many lines, and colors and thoughts that somehow unwinds itself into architecture. It's kind of a Zen thing...if you know what I mean, but acknowleging that I don't believe in Zen : ). Finally, let's get to the title...in comes Tom at 5:30PM and says, "It's Friday Video time," and takes me on our second brief pilgrimage to youtube.com. I'm not sure if twice counts for a weekly tradition yet, but I'm hopeful!

Enjoy the Friday Video
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pv5zWaTEVkI

Mighty men!

"Who are you"
"WE'RE SERGEANT BUTTON'S MIGHTY MEN!" they yelled at the top of their lungs (in case the bold type didn't give that away).
Then we acted out King David's mighty men. "Scare the women and children," I commanded them, and my mighty men let out a grown that made me proud." I challenged the crowd, "are you scared?" "No," they laughed. "Again," I demanded of them. Another growl, this one sent shivers down my back. To the crowd I now get serious..."I build for a living, structures that will stand for 200 years. It's rewarding, but that dims in comparison to the work I do with your sons. Thank you for honoring me with them this year."

And then it was the fathers turn to be uncomfortable. I get them for two years, 5th and 6th grades. The fifth grader get promoted to Sergeant from Pea Brain Pond Scums. And the Sergeants...they get promoted from "Sergeant to young men...I can't promote you so easily to men however, you fathers are supposed to do that." A pause. "But if your fathers aren't up to the task, come back and see me, and I'll take care of it." I was going for the Top Gun thing, you know, "if you don't get your rear at your duty station, call me, I'll fly with you anytime." I hope the dads squirmed just a little, knowing if they don't call their sons to be men, that someone else will. Some will think, 'I didn't even know I was supposed to.' And the boys, I know they heard the call clearly. Boys are to become men, and a man has to bestow that honor upon them. The question then is simple, 'what man?'

That's what I do...

Airborne!

http://picasaweb.google.com/cjbuttonmeister/Airborne

Life can be hard...or Prayer Partners

This is an entry I've waited way to long to write. I have a Ranger Buddy - see way below. And I have a Wing Man - also see way below. The point is, as a man, I need other men in my life to keep me strong, sharp and balanced. They challenge me, encourage me and keep me accountable... Proverbs 27:17 says, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another."

Most Wednesday mornings at 6AM I get together with a guy from church. Sometimes we just talk. Sometimes we just pray. And every once in a while we just sit there and look at each other suspiciously. We always bust on each. But what's most important is that we know each others stuff. Our pastor always say, "you need at least one person in your life who knows enough about you to put you in jail." Chip could put me in jail...I consider myself safe because I could send him there as well. We know each others family, children, fears, concerns...stuff. You know what I mean by "stuff" right. We draw close and distant in the ebb and flow of time and business, but in my heart I always know he's there holding me up, holding me accountable to the high calling we each have in Christ Jesus. I thank God nearly every day for my prayer partner - for Chip - and for the men in my life like him. We can't do it alone, and we were never meant to. Thanks brother...from my heart.

Why I blog...

This post is really an edit of a recent entry called "Why I write." But in it, I realized that I'd told a fib by ommission. The truth is, I write because Calvin over there inspires me! Now back to the blog previously in progress...

That's a pretty complex question, but I have several answers. First, I suppose I write because I've always written. For as long as I can remember. Keeping a history, telling a story, sharing an experience; all these things are important to me. A friend today shared a couple of thoughts about my blog. At first he thought it was strange (maybe not quite his words), but as he read, he warmed up to the idea. A chance to get to know his friend a little better perhaps. But what I thought was really cool...a chance for me to record history for my daughters. I guess I better find out how to archive these things in case the system crashes. I wish I had deep thoughts about all this...I really don't. I just like to write, and I guess I'm blessed with an audiance no matter how small! So to you my readers, I say thank you. My life spills out here, and sometimes pieces of my heart, and for whatever reason, you care. I feel honored.

What We do...

About 10 years ago, our marriage was a wreck. Maybe non-existent is a better way to define it. Out of despiration, we attended the Family Life Weekend to Remember marriage conference. It changed our lives...thank God it changed our lives. It's funny, our marriage didn't change overnight...the road was still long, but at least we could see it again. We returned a year later and were approached by the City Ministry Directors..."would we consider joining the team?" We said yes - I won't bore you with the details, If you want to read our story, click the link below. What I will say though, is that if you're married, you really need to go. (To learn more, click the link at the top the page). Nearly 10 years later, we're still on the team, working to save, or simply improve marriages. It's cool! We do it together. We make a difference. That's what we do!

http://www.familylife.com/articles/article_detail.asp?id=769&page=21&keywords